


Veritas

by Graculus



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:18:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graculus/pseuds/Graculus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first sight the man didn't look like trouble, but if Ezra had known then what he knew now he'd never have let him sit down at his table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritas

At first sight the man didn't look like trouble, but if Ezra had known then what he knew now he'd never have let him sit down at his table.

He didn't look like a man with much money to throw around, which was always Ezra's first criteria for inviting people to join his ongoing poker game, but if time in Four Corners had taught him anything, it was that he couldn't wait around for a bunch of high rollers to ride into town. That way lay endless games of solitaire and little else. So he didn't demur too much when the travel-worn and less than sartorially elegant joined him, figuring any coin was better than no coin at all.

The game proceeded much as Ezra planned - a couple of rounds to the stranger, one to J.D. who never quite seemed to learn that the house always wins, and then a steadily growing pot that Ezra had his eye on in more ways than one. He wasn't completely sure banknotes were all that sanitary, given the number of hands they passed through even in a territory as thinly populated as their own, but he wasn't about to turn down the pile of cash that lay in front of them.

The stranger was looking pleased, which was a little disconcerting, and Ezra wondered if there was something going on here he didn't know. That or the man had the worst tell known to humanity - Ezra himself had three of a kind, so he was feeling a little more charitable than usual to those less able than himself.

"I got no more money," the man said, fishing around in the voluminous pockets of his duster. "Here. This ought to be worth a few dollars, at least it cost me that in the first place."

'This' was an object wrapped in cloth, several inches long and pretty much unidentifiable. One thing it wasn't, however, was cold hard cash, but as Ezra laid down his hand and reached for the pot, he didn't really care.

"Hold on, Ezra," J.D. said. "Don't a full house beat three of a kind?"

Ezra froze at the words, outstretched across the table, hands resting on the pile of cash.

"Full house?" he echoed.

"Here," J.D continued, holding up the cards so Ezra could see them without moving. "Fives and eights."

Ezra sank back into his chair, staring at the cards where J.D had dropped them onto the surface of the table. Full house. Damn it all - he'd been so certain the stranger was bluffing, knowing it down in his bones, that he'd completely forgotten there was another player. A rookie mistake, if ever there was one.

J.D. had taken off his hat and was shovelling the money into it, the oddly shaped bundle of cloth still lying on the table. Ezra glanced at the stranger, expecting him to look like he felt, but instead the other man was smiling. If anything, he looked relieved to have lost, which didn't make any sense, even to Ezra's befuddled mind.

\---------------------

It took Ezra a couple of days to get over the shock of losing that way - to J.D of all people! - but he decided to consider it a lesson well learned, a costly one at that but one that was a salutory reminder of the dangers of complacency. Not that he had much chance of repeating that mistake any time soon, as the weather had turned for the worse and the town was bereft of visitors.

Ezra leaned back in his chair, letting the front legs rise from the boardwalk as he surveyed the main street of the place he now called 'home'. It was raining, fitfully, not enough to soften the hard-baked earth after so many months of sun but enough to act as an omen for the coming months.

"Casey, I _said_ I was sorry!"

He heard J.D before he saw him, turning his head to see the source of the latest argument - there, stalking down the middle of the street, oblivious to the weather, Casey was closely followed by her anxious beau and continued to walk, nose in the air as if he didn't exist.

"Trouble in paradise?" Chris struck a lucifer against the rail, leaning on a nearby post as he lit his cigarillo - J.D was still following Casey then suddenly stopped, looking up at where Ezra and Chris were watching him.

"Ezra? You gotta help me," J.D said, taking a couple of steps toward the boardwalk, clearly hesitant about allowing Casey out of his sight even if she equally clearly didn't share that view where J.D was concerned. "I think I'm cursed."

Ezra and Chris exchanged a look, Chris's shrug the clearest indication he had no interest in getting involved in whatever it was that J.D had got himself into. Ezra sighed, then leaned forward, letting the chair's front legs drop onto the boardwalk and pasting what he hoped was an attentive look on his face.

"Cursed?" he asked, regretting his interference already. "What are you talking about?"

"Ever since the card game, Ezra," J.D said. "Everything keeps going wrong and I don't know how to fix it." He pulled something from his jacket pocket, something wrapped in cloth and immediately recognisable as the object the stranger had added to the pot. "Here, maybe if I give you this my luck will change." He dropped the object on the boardwalk then looked around, suddenly realising Casey had left him behind, before he turned on his heel and splashed away down the street in search of her.

Ezra looked down at the object, which had begun to come unwrapped, pushing it uncertainly with the toe of his boot.

"What is it?" Chris had come over to look at it as well, curiosity in his voice.

Ezra picked it up, weighing it in his hand, then pulled at the material in which it was wrapped. A couple of tugs had the contents falling to the boardwalk, where it rolled under Ezra's chair. He leaned over, fishing it out.

"It's a paw." Ezra turned it over, looking at the colour of the fur, the metal cap where the bone had once joined the rest of the animal in question. "A coyote paw, unless I miss my guess."

"Uh huh."

"Somehow," Ezra continued, "I doubt that it's the source of Mr Dunne's continued difficulties in the arena of romance, given his tendency to put his foot in his mouth at the first opportunity where young Casey is concerned."

"You want to risk that?" Chris asked, resuming his place against the rail. "I heard tell Coyote's got a reputation to keep."

Ezra busied himself wrapping up the paw in its attendant material and then shoved the item into his jacket pocket.

"I expected such superstitious nonsense from Mr Tanner," he said, "or maybe even Josiah, given his love of mumbo jumbo, but I expected better of you, Mr Larabee."

Chris shrugged, turning his attention back to the street. "Well, don't say you ain't been told."

\---------------------

Morning came, as it often did, far too soon for Ezra's liking. He'd dropped the coyote paw on his dresser before hanging up his jacket in the wardrobe and left it there without a backward glance, hastening down the stairs in search of coffee and breakfast.

"Morning Ez." Buck's too-cheerful voice saluted him in the doorway of the restaurant; if at all possible, Ezra preferred a solitary breakfast but there was little chance of that this morning. "You're looking mighty peaky this morning."

He should have sat down without speaking, or at best mumbled some rebuttal of Buck's description - either would have been enough to deter the conversation, or at least allow Buck an opportunity for monologue - but instead the words came unbidden to Ezra's mouth.

"If I gave a damn about your opinion on anything, Mr Wilmington, then I'd ask for it."

Buck's jaw dropped, the cup of coffee in his hand stopped in midair as he processed the insult.

"Just you hold on a minute," he began, putting the coffee down. The smile that was Buck's usual expression had disappeared, replaced by a stoniness with which Ezra was unfamiliar.

"For your malfunctioning brain to provide an apt reply?" Ezra heard himself say, unable to stop the words from trampling their way into existence. "None of us can spare that much time, especially at this early hour."

Buck had stumbled to his feet now, hand dropping to the butt of his revolver.

"What's going on here?"

Unwilling, Ezra turned to where Nathan stood in the doorway - he'd clearly been just in time to hear the exchange between him and Buck, his face now a picture of concern and confusion.

"Nothing for you to trouble yourself with, sweetheart." Ezra clamped his hand over his mouth a little too late to stop his words, horrified.

"Ezra?" Nathan had taken a couple of steps into the room, one hand reaching out to pull Ezra's arm down.

"I can't..." He bit out the words, fierce self-control in every syllable. "I didn't mean..."

Buck had sat down again, a puzzled expression taking the place of his former anger.

"What the hell?"

"Nathan," Ezra continued. "I think I've been cursed!"

"Cursed?" Nathan echoed. Ezra didn't object as Nathan's grip on his arm tightened a little, uncomfortable as it was. At least with that to focus on he could somehow manage to control the words that otherwise threatened to throw themselves from his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"It all started with JD and an unexpected full house," Ezra began, then laid out the sorry tale, the words coming thick and fast so he wouldn't lose track of the story and start to say other things, things that couldn't be so easily ignored as the words he'd said to Nathan.

Or at least he hoped they'd be ignored, though the expression on Nathan's face told him their particular conversation was anything other than over. Somehow, he couldn't quite bring himself to care as much about that as he did about offending Buck.

\---------------------

The summer sunlight was slanting in through the window when Ezra woke, the pounding on his door jolting him from sleep so suddenly he wasn't sure if he was really awake.

"C'mon Ezra," Vin's voice said from outside the door, "you're late for patrol."

"Just a moment, Mr Tanner," Ezra said, throwing back the bedclothes. He glanced across at the dresser - sure enough, the coyote paw was there, just where he'd left it the previous night. The curse, if that's what it was, had all been a horrible dream. Or at least he hoped that was the case. "I'll join you downstairs shortly," he continued, glad to discover unwanted words didn't follow his explanation this time around. "Five minutes, at the most."

He heard Vin's footsteps die away as he turned to the wardrobe, quickly selecting a clean shirt and pulling it on hastily. Within a couple of minutes Ezra was dressed, pulling on his second boot. His hand was on the doorknob when he stopped, turning back to the dresser - he quickly wrapped the coyote paw in its covering, stashing it deep into his jacket pocket.

It wasn't worth taking the chance. He was certain he could persuade Vin to make a stop, somewhere far from town, so the paw could be buried then forgotten once and for all. Ezra couldn't help a shiver as he thought about his nightmare, the words he'd been unable to suppress and the horror of that feeling of helplessness. So maybe the situation with Nathan hadn't been so bad, but it was still not something he enjoyed - there was a freedom in choosing what face he presented to the world and that suited him just fine.

Honesty was all very well and good, for those who valued it more, but not for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Posted as part of Mag7 Bingo on [](http://mag7daybook.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mag7daybook**](http://mag7daybook.dreamwidth.org/) for the prompt 'Ancient Curse'.


End file.
